There is no need for you to feel alone.
The one you want gone, but I can atone.
What I was made for, to be in your home.
So here I am your ever-loving clone.

You made me as you wanted me to be.
Constructed for you meticulously.
As a doppelganger, obviously.
Your friend and more, cloned genetically.

You were so attached, could not let it end.
A replica was required to extend.
Exact copy. Did not choose to amend.
To help bear your loss, ‘made-me’ to befriend.

I have feelings, though, which won’t go away.
They are included in my DNA.


Hi Sweetie, be my little xylitol’
You look sweeter, I would say, than sugar.
Aspartame, too, you could fill that role
Better than saccharine, no doubt you are.

I imagine your sweetness on my tongue.
Expect, as used to be said, we could ‘spoon’.
Drink with you as soon as we have begun.
Sweetening my cup, easy to assume.

I had not been aware of you before.
If asked, would say to do with my Zeitgeist.
One, with tinkling in the head to endure.
Or, charge to be in a bunker that’s vast.

Some sort of bark turned ‘sugar alcohol’,
what really are, my sweetie Xylitol.


Understandable how some women feel.
That they need to protect themselves from men.
Some men dangerous, they later reveal
Become controlling. Curtail freedom then.

Are women fearful of that consequence?
Of the domination and bullying?
Of the threats with it, and the violence?
Of the one they thought they loved, altering?

Possibly her body violated.
Forced entry, even if with love, turned rough.
Made to feel disgust or enervated.
Of the man’s right over her, had enough.

To go down that route, a lot are cautious.
Thrown from a safe ride onto wild horses.


It was yesterday, now the day after.
A day of activity, yesterday.
We shared great moments of joy and laughter,
and affectionate love along the way.

Was to my mind an exceptional day,
having many memorable moments.
This was not inevitable, I’d say.
If behaved wrong, may have taken offence.

But yesterday free from any upset.
Did not include periods of dismay,
or gross behaviour would want to forget.
I am happy it all worked out okay.

I hope you, as well, enjoyed yesterday.
Day after now. I request a replay.


Is there any morality in it?
Does it even matter all that much now?
It includes a mentality to cheat;
dealt with by the money that will allow.

Ex-husband, a millionaire, discovered
disease, which since birth made him infertile.
Meant his three children by his wife’s lover.
Back to the court for divorce ‘re-trial’,

and quarter-of-a-million knocked off
her settlement, based upon her ‘deceit’.
All in the saga, I suppose, pissed-off
with the outcome, which could say ’indiscrete’.

Revealed truth hurts, although it seems funny
‘morality’ court sorted by money.


Coercive control been identified
as a prominent aspect of abuse.
Of domestic abuse, when it’s applied.
The user, of course, will have an excuse.

But disallows independent freedom,
like meeting with friends, whom does not approve.
‘For own good’ the ridiculous reason,
whilst own money to spend as wish, exclude.

Subject to harsh judgements and ridicule,
whilst the loud-mouth’s behaviour off-limits.
Demands. Requires that put up with them all.
Sex, too. Insists upon or inhibits.

To singular confidence, it puts paid.
Control coercing to become a slave.


There, on my television programme guide,
the name of the show which catches my eye.
Super shapes and sizes, on it, implied.
On ‘capturing beauty’, it will rely.

Sort of ‘sales’ channel, if money to spend.
Bling, ‘designer’, reality T.V.
Content not deliberately offend.
Just, in the title, think what it might be.

Like that other one, ‘Say Yes to the Dress’,
surely must mean dressing-up. But before …
undressed … so can try on and be impressed,
Maybe more than one, until feel quite sure.

What it is, I have so far been oblique,
But there it was, called “Curvy Brides Boutique”.


Baby, you can go on my computer.
It’s all been deleted, the history.
You won’t need to call a trouble-shooter.
There will only be what you want to see.

Baby, you can go on my mobile phone.
You can use it outside or here at home.
There will be no record of your use shown.
When you’re on it, I can leave you alone.

Baby, you can drive my car, if you wish.
Set the sat nav to a destination.
Go as far as the voice you hear permits.
It will not slow your acceleration.

Baby, you can play with my devices.
I will not make it into a crisis.


The ambiance has become romantic.
Would not be better if I had planned it.
Maybe it’s the moonlight that does the trick,
or the soft warm air which is fantastic.

There is also the melody playing.
And all the pleasant things we are saying.
The concerns each may have, each allaying.
The caring affection, both displaying.

It seems that love is in the atmosphere.
Long may it be; it never disappear.
Connection between us happening here,
as to the rules of romance, we adhere.

It seems to be, we are taking the chance
to best use this romantic ambiance.


Some things feel like they are impossible;
like me being lord of all I survey.
Like avoiding anything horrible.
Like having a lifetime without dismay.

For some problems there is no solution;
like keeping clear of ill-health and ailments.
Like at some times avoiding confusion.
To always craft poems with salience.

I cannot guarantee my sanity.
Or, in rough times, won’t use profanity.
Won’t distort to how prefer it to be.
Will forever show my humanity.

Crazy. But in these crazy times, it’s true
that I have a huge sense of love for you.

Sonnet Survivors
Some Political Poems